Page 16 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Now.

I find the button and fly of his jeans and make quick work of them. Slipping a hand inside his pants, I get my first real feel of his cock.

He feels so right in my hand, in a way I never would have even thought to imagine a penis could. He is hard and hot and thick. I know that once he’s free of the confines of his jeans, his length will feel perfectly weighty and balanced in my palm.

But before I can push his pants down, Rowan stops me. “Come here,” he says, each syllable heavy, like it’s hard for him to translate thought into words.

Taking me by a hand, he leads me into the living room. He pushes me gently down onto the end of the chaise lounge. My heart leaps into my throat when he sinks to his knees before me and opens my legs wide.

Eyes on my face to make sure it’s okay, he reaches up under the maxi dress I’m wearing. Hooking his fingers into their waistline, he peels down my leggings, taking my panties along with them. I thank whatever deity is listening that I wore newer black undies today instead of some of the less congenial options I have available.

I think my brain might have slightly exploded. Because suddenly, as Rowan’s touch slides up the inside of my thighs, I am calm. I feel as still as a quiet pond on a windless summer’s day, all reflection, no ripples.

Everything feels very clear. Watching Rowan find the cleft between my legs first with his fingers, then with his mouth, I get the sense that I’m looking into the future — and this is exactly how it’s meant to be.

And then I don’t think much at all. Not with any clarity, at least.

Because Rowan’s attacking my clit with his tongue and, occasionally, extraordinarily gentle teeth. Every so often he slides his tongue down and laps at my opening. Even I can feel how slick I am. This man is making me wetter than I thought I was able to get, and he’s quite literally eating it up.

Pussy lips pulsing, my mind wanders back to the first day of poetry class. What if I’d left? What if I’d made my decision to run for the hills a few seconds sooner and had missed out on this moment?

I think of my classmates, who still come to class dolled-up but unwilling to learn. Back at the start of term, I never in a million years would have guessed that out of all those coiffed women, I’d end up being the teacher’s pet.

And not just pet. The teacher’s partner, if Rowan’s words are to be believed.

From the way he’s making love to my nether region, I absolutely do. Because no young guy would go down on a woman like me — or hell, any woman — unless he really and truly cared for her and her sexual pleasure.

I’m so damned grateful.

Grateful that I didn’t leave class that first day. Grateful that I dove headfirst into the material Rowan presented us with. Grateful that I let my heart be vulnerable enough to bring he and I to this present moment when my cavern is collapsing in on itself and my thighs are quivering around Rowan’s face and I’m singing out the best orgasm of my life loud and long.

When I’ve descended from the high Rowan pushed me to, nether lips still throbbing, I grab his face in two hands and kiss him hard. I lick up my juices from his lips, showering him with my thankfulness.

Then I scoot back on the chaise lounge and pull my dress up over my head and discard it.

Mischief and understanding dancing in his eyes, Rowan fully strips off the leggings and panties bunched at my ankles, then peels off his own shirt.

And sweet baby Jesus, he is a vision with dark down curling over his strong chest and toned abs spanning above his open jeans. To my surprise, his skin is patterned with black ink. Geometric patterns slide over one pectoral and a hawk in flight unfurls over his opposite shoulder.

I want to examine the tattoos, to find out each one’s history.

But I want Rowan inside me more.

Laying back, I open my legs and reach with both arms for my lover.

With a grin that’s as sweet as it is sexy, Rowan lays his muscled body over my soft one. And while I’d expected to feel badly about our two very different forms coming together, I find that I enjoy the dichotomy. Somehow, his trim frame and my pillowy curves match. Each complements the other.

I wonder how else we might complement each other.

Hungry to discover all the ways we go together, I help Rowan push off his jeans and discard them with the rest of our clothing.

Then I take his cock in my palm like I’d wanted to before and admire its velvet skin and heated ripples. He does indeed rest with the perfect solidity in my hand.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, raising my eyes to his.

“Just like you,” he rumbles in return.

Leaning back once more, I give his penis a light tug, smirking. “Let’s be beautiful together.”

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